Page 14 of June 7

Luckily, they'd taken their time packing everything from the old store. Each box was labeled, and they knew which aisle it belonged. That would help in the long run.

Rush grabbed the sprayer and headed toward the corner of the room. Maverick picked up the tray and roller, then circled his hand above his head for everyone to step back.

In the ten years he'd known Maverick, he'd probably only heard his MC brother speak ten times. He was a beast of a man at six foot four inches and two hundred and fifty pounds. No one questioned his silence, and everyone knew Maverick wore scars. His back was covered with scar tissue, the likes Bane had never seen before.

"Open all the overhead doors. The more air we get circulating, the faster it'll dry." Jagger jogged toward the first door.

Bane took the second door. They'd moved the semi-trailer out earlier, and everyone rolled their motorcycles out to the curb. They were almost finished. Soon, they could stand back and see all their hard work come to an end.

Cord dipped below the rising door and stepped inside. "There's a chick asking for you."

"Fuck off."

"Seriously, man." Cord whistled. "Hot, too."

There was no woman asking about him. He, and everyone else, had worked their asses off since moving to Seaglass Cove. No partying. No women. No fucking.

"She asked for you by name," added Cord.

"Where?"

Cord dipped his chin, swinging his gaze behind Bane. "I wouldn't leave her waiting if I were you."

He looked over his shoulder. His body tightened. There was only one woman in town who knew him by name. Daisy was out and about early. The pool wasn't even open yet.

He brushed his hands off on the back of his jeans and approached her. "What are you doing here?"

Maybe letting her know she was unwanted would send her back to the pool. If she showed up here, one of the guys would take advantage of her. Women like her weren't safe around the club.

Women who came around came because they wanted fucked. Plain and simple.

She held out a plastic food container. "I was wondering if you'd answer a question for two dozen chocolate chip cookies."

He frowned. That was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard.

"Spit it out," he said.

She looked in the building and blew out her breath. Whatever was on her mind troubled her.

"I know this is going to sound weird, but were you in my bedroom last weekend?" she blurted.

She'd seen him several times since the night he found her drunk on her patio and spent the night in her bed. Not once had she acted as if she remembered him being there.

The only one who knew he was there and would remember was Liz.

He was more confused than before because she confessed to him yesterday while they shared dinner that she never drank alcohol. Daisy had too many stories to keep straight, and she had no idea what was happening.

She had a cute life she'd built for herself. Sexier than hell, living in a swimsuit at the pool. But there was a dark side to her.

He'd been there. He'd seen. He'd held her.

"Yeah, I spent the night with you." He inhaled, ready for her to deny it'd happened.

The gentleness in her eyes—the one that pegged her as a happy woman with no cares in the world slipped, and the torment that came over her gaze warned him that he wasn't prepared to hear what came next.

She thrust the container of cookies against his chest. He grabbed them before they dropped to his feet.

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again." She whirled around in her little red shorts and jogged toward the entrance to the pool.

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